


Wretched

by Schattenfeuer



Category: Nightmare Harem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Death, Dark fic, F/M, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenfeuer/pseuds/Schattenfeuer
Summary: Let the dead rest in peace, do not disturb their eternal slumber, lest you wish for them to haunt you.
Relationships: Levy/Reader





	Wretched

It was this sound that had lured him here, out of his cold, dark grave and thrust into the bright, unforgiving light. The sweet chiming that no one else seemed to notice, not that it rung out often nowadays. Like a bloodhound had he followed its echos, chasing past blurry, colorful shapes of vaguely familiar sights, past face to which he barely could put a name, he was little more than a frigid breeze to their skin, one that brought with it the scent of biblichor and old blood and grave dust.

He should know more than just shapes and fading blurs of memories from long ago. But something stopped him from digging deeper, a pain so deep seated and burning, he could simply not go past it, this old wound gaping where his chest was, tainting and soiling already dirty clothes with even older blood, cold and lifeless like the rest of the him. That was it, this sound, the only thing on his mind. To get to the source of this sound by any means necessary, he would crawl if he needed to, on his stomach over the earth like a maggot, anything to get closer, always closer to the one thing that would alleviate this unbearable pain. 

Each step, dragging and torturous as they were, was a fight in a war he intended to win. Unlike the last one. Not again, not this time. He would not lose, not to his own failing body, to this wooden, unresponsible doll out of cold flesh and ashen skin, clenching sharp teeth and fixing the broken gaze of dulled, clouded over eyes on this distant spot, somewhere where the horizon kissed the earth, he followed a chiming, sweet sound.

So close, the closer he came to its sound, the lighter his body started to feel, bright eyed and soft skinned, he remembered. Tasting of honey and cinnamon and speaking with that infuriatingly alluring lilt, chapped lips from pearly white, blunt teeth pulling at them in a nervous tick. The stifling fog in his head cleared step by step, so close, so very close. 

She was the sun and he was the flower seed, planted long time ago and forgotten in absolute darkness, emerging as a strangled, twisted vine and blooming only under the warmth she bestowed on him and him alone. Until she didn’t anymore, because he was no longer there. 

Let the dead rest in peace, he was sure they had told her. But she was not among the crowd of familiar, blurry faces and the echo trail of a chiming bell and muffled sobs lead away, further, always further into what he knew by instinct as the enemy’s land. Up into the clouds he went, a spectre, little more than a gust of cold wind leaving the guards shuddering and questioning their own senses, past a garden too perfect to be created by hand. 

This broken fragment of what he once was acted with little more than raw instinct, driven by an overpowering desire to feel it again, this precious warmth, oh to bask in the glow of his own, personal sun again. The sound was so loud now, acted as the heartbeat he no longer possessed, faithfully calling out to him as he ghosted through silent hallways, bricks and marble and wood and glass could not hold him back anymore, as he slipped into a bedroom that could have passed as beautiful, if not for the suffocating stillness, the stiffness of those pale bedsheets, salt from tears spilled turning them into something more akin to wood or iron.   
And in the middle of it this heart crushingly lonely, desolate nest of blankets tossed and crumbled she sat, all skin and bone and matted hair, the sharpness of her spine’s rigged curve standing out, the wings of her shoulder blades throwing deeper shadows than they should. He reached out, hands cold and shaky, covered in old blood and dust, only to witness with helpless anguish as they failed to make contact with her, slipping through her skin and grazing her bones without leaving an impact, much like he was attempting to catch the shattering of air in the midst of summer. 

Her name was a mangled groan falling from his lips like a stone thrown into a still pond, sending ripples over the smooth surface, but nothing happened, her breath kept coming in short, raspy puffs, too hot and choked up to be called natural. He wanted to shout, look at me, he screamed, but his howls of pain and despair drowned in the ocean of tears until --

Blank, red rimmed eyes stared straight at him, through him, no, no, NO! Look at me, at me and nothing else! He begged, falling to his knees and grasping at her delicate ankles only for his fingers to slip right through her again, no resistance met. This was not how it was supposed to be, worse, this was all his fault as he watched tear after tear after tear drip from the corner of her eyes, why wouldn’t she look at him?

Caught in this limbo between witnessing but never being actually noticed he dangled, had nothing left but to grasp at every faint opportunity that might present itself, he was here now, the wretched, long dead flower finally emerging from the dust of a forgotten grave, but his sun had dimmed, was at the edge of being snuffed out forever. How long he knelt there, at the edge of the bed he could not remember, barely noticed the shift from radiating sunlight to the cold silver of the moon. She did not move at all during this time, curled up in herself like she wanted to disappear from the surface of this strange, cruel world. 

He should have left, vaguely he remembered being offered this chance. To rest and sleep, but old wrath had burned bright and bitter in his veins as he slapped away the metaphorical hand offered to her. Words spat out in anger coming back to bite him as she ran through his fingers like fine sand, no matter how hard he grasped, he could not hold her, not anymore. Could not stop the literal nightmare descending onto her as she thrashed and screamed in her sleep, no matter how desperate he wished for it. Helplessly he trailed after her as she ghosted through those very same hallways he had only minutes, hours, days? before. 

Pale and faint was the relief he felt when she was left undisturbed, only observed from the distance, never interacted with unless she strayed too far towards the edge of the estate, not that she ever stood a chance to slip out and actually escape. That would require that she had a place to run to, she had thrown away the last safe haven the night she had snuck away to be with him, back then when he was drawing a breath and warm and alive. 

How was he supposed to move on? How did they - whoever they were - expect him to just up and leave while she was here alone? In a world not her own? A small mercy was to be in her company again, but only for him, as she could not hear him whispering into her ear, her eyes would not take in his faded form, with each passing hour she looked more and more like him, frayed at the edges and worn down, the softness of her shape was slowly being whittled down until nothing remained but sharp edges and jagged corners. It would have been a real mercy to set her free, to let her forget, but of course the lord of the castle in the sky was not merciful, she was little more than a trapped bird to him, less even, now that he had lost interest in her vicious cycle of self destruction. 

He saw the way she eyed the windows, the way she leaned against cool glass and the longing in her dulled eyes, it startled his motionless heart enough so that it felt alive again, if only for a moment. He desired her warmth, her love, her very presence so much that it had lifted him from his early grave, but not like this, she was still young, even though there was nothing inside of her except bittersweet memories and hollow numbness, he was not prepared to see her like this, this was not supposed to end like this. 

She had acted on impulse alone and it had been enough, her body was not made for flying, the clouds could not catch her, abandoned her and shattered like the glass had under her weight. Like her bones did upon impact. He had cried all the way down, had screamed and clawed at her flesh but didn’t even manage to leave a bruise until it was too late, pale stone tinted red, she looked so peaceful if one ignored the unnatural bent of her legs and arms, her eyes were still half open with the life bleeding out of them at rapid speed, rose colored froth gathering on her lips as she smiled. 

“No...no! Not like this…”, he cried, kneeling at her side, wishing, begging for a chance to take this all back, to make her whole again. He actually wished he could cry right now, anything to express even a fraction of the emotions he was feeling,of the storm that was tearing him apart as the pain returned, the coldness she had chased away settling back into his limbs. His dirtied hands cupped her cheeks, careful to give him at least the illusion of him being able to hold her as his disobedient mouth kept spewing those words that he never got to share with her before. “Please, darling...I am sorry...Not like this!...I love you…”

“I love you too, Levy.”


End file.
